


Calling spots

by belmanoir



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kevin/Rami, M/M, Not Kayfabe Compliant, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Rami’s not good with words. He’s okay, you know? He can talk. He does talk. He’ll talk your ear off. But he’s not </em>great<em> at it. Not like Kevin or whoever. He’s not good at getting across exactly what he’s trying to say, and how he means it. The idea of trying to find the words to tell Kevin that he’s into him, and not just into him but like, he wants to...be his boyfriend, he guesses? That doesn’t even sound like enough but you can’t, like, propose right off the bat.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling spots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrs_laugh_track](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_laugh_track/gifts).



Rami’s not good with words. He’s okay, you know? He can talk. He does talk. He’ll talk your ear off. But he’s not _great_ at it. Not like Kevin or whoever. He’s not good at getting across exactly what he’s trying to say, and how he means it. The idea of trying to find the words to tell Kevin that he’s into him, and not just into him but like, he wants to...be his boyfriend, he guesses? That doesn’t even sound like enough but you can’t, like, propose right off the bat. Which obviously Kevin is already married and that’s...but Kevin told him he and Karina were thinking about opening it up, so it’s not _wrong_ to ask, but God, if he like comes up with this whole speech and then—because he’d have to ask Kevin not to interrupt him. Because he wants to get it all out there. He wants to tell Kevin he’s felt this way for a long time, but it’s gotten way worse in the last few months, like here’s how bad it’s gotten: he’s told that story a few times about how he heard Kevin’s entrance music at Wrestlemania and it gave him an electrical charge in his whole body. But by now the truth is that Kevin just walking into a room—no story, no feud, no gear, no music, no crowd, just Kevin in shorts and a T-shirt—that gets the charge too. People make fun of Kevin for dressing the same all the time but fuck, if Rami looked that good in shorts and a T-shirt, he’d never wear anything else either—

_Focus. Breathe._

So he’d have to ask Kevin not to interrupt, but that means Kevin won’t _stop_ him if he knows he’s gonna say no. 

Maybe it would be better to just tape a video message.

He considers it for way too long given how pathetic an option it is. God, even if Kevin _does_ love him back, he’ll still never let him hear the end of that. Rami’s not even sure he can do it. Because when he cuts a promo, he knows exactly what the other person is going to say in response. And he has no idea what Kevin is going to say. He hopes it will be something like _Oh good, I feel the same way, thanks for taking the plunge man,_ but maybe Kevin will actually say _Ah jeez, I’m really flattered and you know I love you to death, you’re obviously very handsome but I just don’t feel the same way._

He could bear to hear the words. He thinks. But to choke out some prepared, intense, heartfelt speech and have Kevin know he prepared it, that he thought hard about every word, that he cares way too fucking much, and the whole time maybe Kevin is just feeling bad for him for how as soon as he’s done Kevin is going to let him down gently with totally spontaneous tact and grace...it’s just not going to happen. Rami can’t.

*

“Do you think maybe Sami likes Kevin as like...more than a friend?” he blurts out in the middle of a conversation about their story arc.

Kevin looks a little confused, and a little uncomfortable. Rami’s heart is pounding as if he just walked out in front a few thousand people. “Were we not already doing that?” Kevin asks. “I mean, I was already doing that on my end.”

Rami doesn’t know how to feel about this. “Yeah, I guess,” he says weakly. “We’ve just never talked about it.”

Kevin actually has a lot of thoughts, and they’re really good. Probably they _should_ have talked about it before. Does Kevin have all these thoughts because he’s into Rami too? Or is this just a character thing? “It’s sad that it can’t work out for them,” Kevin says.

“What do you mean?” Rami feels obscurely stung. “You’re gonna face-turn eventually.”

“Yeah, sure, but Kevin Owens is way too possessive. If he was with Sami, he’d have to let Karina date and that would drive him nuts.”

It’s a good point. “What about you?” Rami asks self-consciously. “I remember you and Karina were talking about that a while back, with you being on the road so much.”

Kevin blushes. 

“Sorry, I mean, is that too personal? Just, you had mentioned—”

“Nah, nah.” Kevin waves his hand. “She’s actually been seeing someone.”

Rami stops himself from jumping right to _What about you?_ “And how is it? Like is it weird for you?”

“Not really. I was worried I’d get insecure if she started dating someone a lot hotter than me, but he kind of looks exactly like me so that conflict is still in the future.”

Rami frowns. “I don’t know why you always sell yourself so short, man. Who the fuck is she going to date that’s so much hotter than you? You’re a good-looking guy.”

Kevin laughs. “Well, compared to you maybe.”

 _Sound natural. Sound natural._ “So...are _you_ seeing anyone?”

Kevin makes a weird face. “Not yet.”

“You have someone in mind?”

Kevin doesn’t look at him. Does that mean something? Is it a good sign? “Maybe. I don’t really want to tell you who until I’m sure I want to say something to them about it. It’s embarrassing, you know?”

Oh yes, Rami knows. “Is it someone at work?”

“Where else am I going to meet someone?” He sighs. “But dating at work is such a minefield, and if it goes sour you’re just fucked.”

“I hear you,” Rami says fervently.

*

He stews over it all night. The next day he can’t even get all the way through breakfast before coming out with, “I think you should ask them out.”

Kevin raises his eyebrows. “It’s not really your call, man.”

Rami flushes hot. “I know, I know. I just—I want you to be happy.” World’s biggest cop-out.

“Uh huh,” Kevin says slowly. “And what if he says no and I’m miserable? What are you gonna do then?”

He! Kevin said he! So that increases Rami’s chances by...a factor of two, right? Give or take? No, because women aren’t half the WWE—“He’s not going to say no,” he insists. He may actually be digging his own grave here if Kevin starts, like, dating Claudio. But he does want Kevin to be happy, so. “No one would be that dumb.”

Kevin shakes his head and grins at him. “You’re so weird.”

“Listen, if he turns you down I’ll eat my hat.”

“Yeah? Your Sami Zayn hat?”

He hadn’t meant it literally, but—“Sure. We’ll pitch a storyline with some kind of bet, and I’ll lose, and I’ll, like, do a promo where I cook it and take a bite.” As much as he’s hoping it won’t come up, it would be a killer promo, actually.

Kevin laughs. “You’re on.”

*

Breakfast, the next day. Rami’s heart is in his throat, for fear Kevin will say _Oh yeah, so me and Fergal are going to the movies this morning, thanks for the push, man_ or some shit. 

“So? Did you ask him?”

“I thought about it,” Kevin says. “I think I want to wait for some kind of sign he’s interested, though.”

Rami can’t seem to swallow around his nerves. “What kind of sign?”

“I dunno. Like if he got me VIP tickets to the zoo maybe.”

That seems really specific, not something someone might randomly do without being prompted. Which is a good sign, right? Like it’s a game now? Rami hates games. He opens his mouth to just say _Look, Kev, is it me? Because if it isn’t me I might need to go cry a little bit_ and instead finds himself saying, “Or like, asked you to dinner maybe.”

“Yeah, but then how do I know it’s a date and not just dinner?”

“Reservations,” Rami says with certainty. “Right? It’s a date if there are reservations.”

Kevin nods. “Uh huh. That makes sense. And maybe if he dresses up a little.”

Okay. This Rami can do. He’s too chicken to just ask him right there, though. He thinks about it all day and finally fucking texts him. _Hey, do you want to catch dinner on our free night Thursday?_

Yeah, pathetic, he knows. Back off, okay? He’s doing the best he can. Kevin texts back, _Sure, where? Can you give me a ride?_ so he’s still in the running.

*

He wears the same suit he used to cut the promo about Kevin Owens meeting him in the ring to explain why he did it. Kevin probably won’t notice but Rami thinks it’s romantic. 

He considers and discards the idea of showing up with flowers or something. Maybe he doesn’t hate games as much as he thought because he’s almost getting a kick out of drawing out the suspense now. Like he doesn’t want the uncertainty to be over. 

Even so, his tongue feels too big for his mouth as he tells the hostess, “Reservation for two for Sebei.” He’s amazed he doesn’t stutter. He can feel Kevin looking at him.

Dinner is weirdly silent. He hates it when he and Kevin can’t think of anything to talk about. Like, where does the magic _go_? Rami guesses you can’t have magic 365 days a year, but it’s so great when it’s there and he and Kevin can just fly, words and words and more words leaping into the air.

What if he fucks this up forever?

Also, should he be doing more date stuff? He tries to remember the last time he was on a date. He tries to remember the last date he saw in a movie, even. For some reason all he can think of is ordering a bottle of wine, but obviously Rami doesn’t drink and he doesn’t want Kevin to be tipsy for...whatever happens later, so that’s out.

“So that guy asked me to dinner,” Kevin says abruptly.

“That’s great!” _Overselling, Rami._

Kevin laughs, sort of...fondly? Hopefully fondly. “I’m still nervous I’m misreading the signs.”

Rami leans in, nudging Kevin’s foot with his under the table. Signs. “You gotta go for it, man,” he says. “Like, you’re married. If _he’s_ misreading he looks like a jackass. Go for the goodnight kiss.”

Kevin licks his lower lip thoughtfully. “Sometimes your habit of calling my spots is less cute than other times, you know that?”

*

Well, this is it. They’re outside Kevin’s hotel room chit-chatting, but the night is unquestionably over.

Rami knows how this moment would go if he choreographed it. He knows because he did it, for that last Steen and Generico match. He’d lean in hopefully, and Kevin would look at him for a long, long moment and turn away, and he’d sag with disappointment but then Kevin would turn around at the last second and take him in his arms...he knew it was going to be okay because he had fucking scripted it but he still remembers how Generico felt when Kevin jumped out of the ring and left him standing there with his hand out. That feeling that it was over, that his life was over, that he was nothing and everyone could see and Kevin was _gone_ —

This is just Kevin though, the real one, and he doesn’t do any of that bullshit. He just says, “Alright, if this isn’t what you wanted you have no one to blame but yourself,” and takes Rami’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Everything is perfect from there. Rami suddenly knows exactly what to do, throwing his arms around Kevin’s neck and kicking his door wide open so they can scramble through it and land on the bed, Kevin’s hands on his hips like always and like never before. And now that he knows how Kevin feels, he can say all of it, he wants to say all of it. It comes spilling out, Kevin’s entrance music and how good he looks in shorts and a T-shirt and how Rami’s heart skips a beat every time Kevin puts his foot on the ropes to climb and boyfriends and how boyfriend is kind of a weird word and and and. He knows he’s babbling but Kevin doesn’t mind, Kevin loves him and is letting him sit in his lap, and obviously Rami wants to kiss him again but this is almost better.

Finally Kevin says, “Alright, alright, we get it. I can go on about your hair too, you know.”

“Okay,” Rami says. “I’d enjoy that, actually.”

Kevin pretends to examine his hair. “Well, it’s really...red,” he offers, and laughs while Rami pretends to punch him in the head. “No seriously, it’s kind of a problem. I actually found myself looking at Sheamus the other day, thinking like, _Sheamus should really grow his chest hair out, I bet it would look great,_ and then I had to take a moment to experience existential despair.”

Rami feels warm, and also a little guilty for laughing at Sheamus who is a really nice guy and grows his hair like that for his art.

“No seriously though,” Kevin says, tugging him even closer than he already was, “I love your hair. It kind of lights up a room, you know?”

Rami doesn’t argue because he thinks he _could_ light a room right now, like he must actually be glowing or something.

“I have to admit, I was kind of looking forward to the hat promo, though.”

“We’ll do it anyway,” Rami promises recklessly.

“Really?”

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.” It sounds like a non sequitor, but it’s not. Kevin could probably ask him for anything at the moment. A title match. A few thousand dollars. A kidney. Man, what if Kevin Owens got injured and Sami Zayn like gave him an organ and Kevin didn’t know and—

“Yeah, I kind of think I do,” Kevin says. 

Rami beams at him. “Maybe I could cut the promo at my apartment and I could be, like, taking the hat out of the oven,” he suggests. “I could be baking it in tomato sauce, with bits of it poking out of the sauce like shakshuka.”

“Do you think it would be funnier if we didn’t realize what the promo was for at first?” Kevin suggests. “Like maybe you let yourself into your apartment and you take the lid off the crock pot and make a face and we realize the hat is _in_ there.”

“Yeah...” The crock pot is a funny image, but it’s not quite right. “Poutine! I made the hat into poutine!”

Kevin’s eyes light up. “Fucking yes! Oh, that is perfect.”

Perfect seems like a pretty good word. For everything.


End file.
